


Scenes

by Zimara



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23687761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimara/pseuds/Zimara
Summary: Inquisitor's story through her short but vivid memories about Commander and their falling into each other. Not strictly canonical.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. On happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to all of you who follow! Currently playing my first Cullen romance in DA series, and it turns to be the best romance experience ever (I'm so sorry, Fenris, dear!). Loved Cullen right from DAO, but in DAI he's so bittersweet and honest. I write in my playing pace, so sorry for the delays.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not a hero."

The man keeps silent. He breathes hard: he has just killed a few demons, he's in sweat, in blood and in high hopes of some good news. We've brought one, Seeker and me; we have managed to close rifts. Or it was me, the prisoner, as Seeker told him. Now he stands here, delightfully handsome in all this craziness, looking at me with distrust, but with relief, or even some inspiration. I can't stand this.

He's a Templar, and I can't stand it either. 

I feel him for a short moment, these traces of lyrium inside him, but the sensation quickly fades away. There's something unusual happening with this man, he's somehow broken, unfulfilled. That's curious. 

I see that he wants to say something, but decides not to. 

"We must hurry to the Temple," Seeker rushes forward.

The man watches me suspiciously, and I return this gaze. And then follow Seeker. 

Yes, I am not a hero. But he is the type.

\---

"For real, Commander. You're the only grown-up man in this mess, and yet you ask me this?"

I smile ironically, while he looks at me almost angrily, and it makes me want to push till the very end.

"Do you really think that I can worship the deity that has given me the magic powers only to make me its Chantry slave? Do you think I can believe in it? What kind of "maker" even does this to their creations?"

I come closer, but he stands his ground, looking tense, although not defensive, maybe even hating me, being hot as the hardest embrace of a rage demon. 

"You're a slaver, Commander, and that's it."

That's not a sudden though to him. He's neither surprised with this offense nor pissed. Almost like he has considered himself a slaver, or at least acknowledged this possibility. Well, that's fascinating. 

"There's nothing new you can tell me about myself, Herald."

He's tall and immense in his massive armor, and with just a few steps between us, I physically feel his power. He's overwhelming, but he's no threat. I enjoy a moment of silence and slow breathing, while I look in his eyes and see a deep autumn forest, raging with a storm. Still, he's lots of dead mages away from being cute. 

"Don't call me that, because I'm not."

I tell this in a whisper, but he hears me. I observe the moment my unexpected lust for him changes into a quiet tender sadness, and how I stand fragile and small in front of this solid rock. He's the winner of the day, and I need to retreat. 

So I say, "Have sweet dreams, Commander" loudly, and go out of a War room. 

"What a scene!" 

That's Varric chuckles just outside the room. 

"You don't know Curly is haunted by nightmares, do you?"

"I don't care."

But I do. 

\---

"Why are you still here, Trevelyan?"

We watch that short-tempered cleric walking away from the Church gates after our little fight on leadership. 

He asks it casually, but I know that's a big deal for him.

"Simple, Commander. Somehow I am the only one who can close the Breach. And I care because I've got nowhere to run. I am a happy apostate now with no intention to go back to a Circle."

"You're happy?"

"I'm free. I've never been this free before. Yes, with the glowing hand and the abyssal sky, with Seeker following my every step, with this unimaginable Herald of Andraste travesty, yet that is the freedom I've never seen in the Circle." 

I stare at the distant white mountains, and it calms my heart. 

"I can travel. I can see all these beautiful places that you think your Maker's created. I hug trees, I put my hand in a real snowdrift, not the one I've made in a library, and finally feel I'm alive. Can you imagine? That's new to me. Demons? Not so much, we dealt with them in the Circle."

He's silent, and he listens. For some reason, I'm honest with him. Well, he's the first here to ask me meaningful questions. I enjoy answering. And he smells like a victorious battle. Raw and tough. 

We don't have many chances to talk. He's always busy beyond reason, he's all work, he's all avoiding himself. 

"But the hard question is, why are you here, Commander? While I am finally alive, you seem like you want to be dead."

Some time passes before he opens his mouth. 

"I should get back to work."

I smile.


	2. On despair

"These Templars still can impress."

I am opening the door to a War room, Seeker lags behind me. There's only Commander inside, he looks up at me with unease. As he should, because today is my day.

He's cautious. He knows what has happened in Val Royeaux. It's torturing him, but that's not his primary concern right now. It's my triumphant face that is bothering him. 

"Cullen, that was impossible to foresee," says Seeker, but I interrupt her:

"Ask any Circle mage, they can confirm: never trust a Templar."

I'm staring at him, and he slightly shivers, trying to remain calm.

"We all know your bias, Trevelyan," he says at last. "And I've made my peace with it." Liar. "But this is clearly beyond normal. We must investigate."

"So punching a Holy Mother in a face is suddenly beyond normal? Such incredible news for all these beaten and tortured mages!"

In his secret place, where he's broken, he breaks more. I know it because, in one long moment, all the lyrium traces in his body flash brightly and fade, leaving him almost helpless. That's how I feel casting some complex spell that needs nearly all my powers. He's drained. He's thirsty. He needs his lyrium. But he stands here, ready to keep on the fight. 

A gentle hand touches my shoulder. 

"I apologize that we kept you waiting."

And that is my sweetest lady, Ambassador. 

\---

"You're not fine."

I've waited for days to feel the garnish lyrium bloom in Commander, but I didn't succeed. Now he marches behind me, still empty inside. I've chosen the worst moment to start this talk, but we haven't had one since we decided to go for mages' help. 

He's all thorns. 

"Perfectly fine. We'll close the Breach today."

He's not fine, and I shouldn't, but I feel guilt. 

And he's impressive. How on Thedas could one master this fortitude? I see him moving: fast, confident, frightening, but so much torn. Not knowing the man, I would think he's possessed by a Despair demon. 

However, do I actually know him?

I'm here, at his side, because I am afraid, and he's not. It helps. 

"Do you truly believe in closing the Breach, Commander? We've got dozens of smaller rifts all over the land, and we still don't know how all this works."

"I'm here to do what I can. That is you who needs to believe, Trevelyan."

I'm thankful he's never called me Herald again.

\---

"At least I can choose how I die, huh, Commander?"

My words drown into the roaring blizzard of the battle. I should go, but I'm still in the Church, petrified, full of unfamiliar itching dread. I am not a hero, but I'm not going to flee. 

He's close, just a few steps away, firm, but compassionate, and he has nothing to say. I'm all at once at this moment, where the words are done with, and the only thing left is the infinite night sky, brighten by distant imaginary star forges. It brings peace for now, but it will hurt later. Well, I'm not counting on any "later". 

His eyes are beautiful, and I stare. 

Thank you, Commander, that you've been so strong. I am sorry I broke you further. That was unjust.

I take a deep breath. 

"Go help them, Commander. Make it count."

He glances at me for the last time, still silent, looking gorgeous in the glares of fire, feeling like a long-forgotten dream of serenity. Then turns around and walks away. 

I finally step outside. Solas is waiting for me at the Church gates. 

"Let's go."


	3. On joy

"You were right. It was worth investigating, after all."

Commander carries me in his arms, and now I can finally close my eyes. I hear distant voices, that is Seeker praises her Maker for my survival, somebody loudly chants prayers to Andraste. Still, the severe wind blows it all away, transforming into one unpleasant, wearisome song. 

"Don't speak, Trevelyan." He commands, and I obey. I'm exhausted, frozen, too weak for mental sparring. Surprisingly, I feel too safe to argue or even slightly protest. I've spent so many hours carving my path through the snowstorm, that I barely recognize myself, but I clearly recognize him and almost physical sensation of confidence he shares. He carries me gently; that's the first time we are so close, and I feel the calming heat of his body. 

After all wanderings, I find it so joyful and blessed that I want to cry, and suddenly I do. He holds me tight. 

"Almost there, we're almost there."

I don't want to be there. I'm longing to be right here, in the safety of his embrace, in silence, where nothing disturbs me. 

Except for the fact that the most secure place in the world is the arms of a Templar. 

\---

"What's your story, Commander? I barely know anything about you."

He stands above me while I lay on my back, trying to heat up in a bedroll. He has accidentally woke me up to deliver some news about our journey north, and now he's awkwardly trying to retreat. And I'm making it weirder.

"You seemed to know enough to make your mind, Trevelyan."

"But still. You're not here with red lyrium growing from inside you, you are not under this magister's spell. Yet you're a Templar, commanding heretic's forces."

"You consider us heretics?"

"I'm not so into the Chantry business. But I've seen how they do not admire Inquisition."

"I left my Order some time ago. You think of me as a Templar, but you're mistaken." 

Oh, that's what is happening, that's what I sense in him. He's giving up on lyrium. Unimaginable, how he manages to stay sane.

"And why would anyone quit the Templars, I wonder?"

He knows I'm sarcastic. I shouldn't be, but I can't help myself. He sighs. I hear it as "Leave me alone for some diety's sake" sigh. I've killed this talk. I definitely need to update my attitude, for this handsome man proved me wrong so many times. 

I rise on my elbows, examining his face. Curly, is it?

"You're smiling. Good. Now get up, and let's see something huge."

\---

"I wonder, can I charge you?"

"What?"

Commander stops and looks at me with surprise. He's so broody and serious that I want to do something to cheer him up. 

"Well, I'm a mage. Maybe I can touch you to ease your pain."

His face starts to blush. That's amazing how visibly his skin is turning red. I've always thought "blushing" was a figure of speech, but here he stands and reddens literally. 

I badly want to be dismissed. 

"Poor choice of words, Commander, never mind. I'll ask Solas."

Dorian, just behind us on the way to Skyhold, bursts with laughter.

\---

"You don't believe in Maker, although don't you believe in yourself, Trevelyan?"

I'm not ready for this discussion, but we've got no time to wait. He pushes me harder to take the title.

"Listen, Commander. I've already done everything I could and even could not. I'm hunted by an ancient abomination till the day one of us dies. That's enough for me. On the other hand, here she stands, Seeker, dedicated as darkspawn is to an Archdemon." I pause. "And here are you, a perfect leader." 

"You flatter to get out of it. Will not work."

No, I don't. I'll let him lead me with no questions asked. The thought is suddenly so arousing that I loudly take a deep breath. In just a second, I've run up to imagining how these big hands caress my naked body. I find myself biting my lip. 

I'm not ready for this as well.

He sighs. He looks at me like he's going to say something that will break my heart.

"Do it for mages, Trevelyan. They don't deserve, but they need a legend like this."

Oh you hot champion of the just!


	4. On holiness

"This Corypheus story, didn't it convince you to reconsider your disbelieves in Maker?"

"You've talked to Sera, right, Commander?"

And he laughs. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I hear this lovely but totally controlled laughter, and I smile as wide as I can, being unimaginable silly. From the last time we spoke, I've been lusting for his touch every time we've met. And now, standing next to him this high on the Skyhold battlements, I couldn't care less if the Maker exists. And that's troubling. I should say anything that makes sense. I don't want him to track my obvious, very physical affection. 

"History tells us, there had been a lot of weird events, extremely devoted people, things that we interpret just how we want, not how they meant to be. A lot of events we've forgotten. Sometimes we just bury things we don't like from existence. Sometimes we intentionally scribe lies to our scrolls." 

I slowly press against the wall, looking up at him. I really must stop, but I can't. I want him so badly that I can accidentally set everything around us on fire. 

"After all years in the Circle, now I have no idea what to recognize as holy. I'm a mage, I'm damaged. I'm a threat, I'm a monster. But all these sisters and mothers, are they holy? Or what is? Where do your prayers go?"

I see his eyes, bright and sweet like summer honey, yet so deep. How many women have looked in these eyes and drowned? Who were they? I don't care.

"So, I'm not sure about Maker, but I know you exist, Commander."

And then I ruin everything. I raise my hand and slightly press my fingers to his lips, closing my eyes, feeling his warm skin, exploring the scar going right from his upper lip, caressing this unacceptable feeling of belonging here with this man. 

I open my eyes in panic, he stares at me with tension, and I need to go down and never come back.

"Back to work," I whisper and quickly walk away. 

\---  
'Trevelyan, a word?'

No way. I'm not staying alone with this man anymore, no matter what. But others are quickly leaving the War room, and in a moment there's only two of us here, with a grand war table in between. 

"I was thinking of what you've told me. You have a point. Theologically speaking, the concept of holiness is unclear in Andrastianism".

Oh, really! 

He moves slowly from Anderfels to Tevinter. I stand at Korkari Wilds, ready to retreat to Frostback Mountains. 

"And you're right, we have rewritten our history - along with the Chantry history - so much, that we can't be sure The Chant of Light is the exact chant that had been at the very beginning."

I step back to the west, he passes Antiva and Rivain, going through the Amaranthine Ocean to the coasts of Ferelden.

"But you see, we still have so many people being inspired by that story of Andraste. People desperately need to relate strongly to something that makes them better. To something that makes the rules of living. They need a beacon."

He goes around Bressilian Forest, but I'm not moving. I really don't want anything to happen in Orlais.

"And that's where the concept of holiness comes into play. To help. To bring hope. To fulfill."

In one masterful move, he pulls me to his chest, holds me tight, and kisses me so hard I cannot breathe. He's demanding, but tender. I'm melting against his lips. 

And then it's over. 

"I want to be embarrassed as much as you are. So we're even."

He walks out. I lean on the Frostback Mountains, trembling.


	5. On control

"I'm curious, haven't you broken any Chantry vows by kissing me this way?"

We haven't seen each other long weeks after his preaching to me in the War room, and now I'm back from Crestwood, and he meets my party at the Skyhold bridge. All the urgent matters are discussed, everyone leaves for a night's rest, so I want to continue the game he's agreed to play. 

I'm not sure why on Thedas I'm even doing this. Clearly, he's not the only attractive man to have an affair with in case I need some casual release. And that would be extremely unsettling to jeopardize our mission with something so trivial. He's a perfect commander, we can't lose or harm him. He's loyal, hard-working, stoic and mighty, and painfully hot, and breathtakingly handsome. Well, here we are.

There wasn't a night I hadn't remembered his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my back. Hoping to forget this little encounter while away, I ended up attracted to this man like he's my air and my water. 

To a Templar. 

To a Templar, who thinks he's quit. 

"I haven't taken any vows."

And to his voice. And to this sensation of protection and safety when he's near. And to his bitter lyrium addiction that he fights so passionately, not even knowing I see it. 

So, no vows then. 

Good to know. We're gonna play hard.

\---

"You love to be in control, don't you?"

I ask after looking at how he has been giving commands to his lieutenants for some time. I volunteered to bring him the news on resources that we'd just discussed with Seeker and quartermaster, and now, while he's sitting at his desk, I stand in the doorway at his office, high on his voice.

I very much expected him to blush, to flirt back, but for a short moment, he gets so sorrowful that I almost stop breathing. He quickly overcomes it and looks me directly in the eyes. 

"Don't you, Trevelyan?"

"Depends, Commander. I love both, to lead and to be led."

And we're back to teasing.

"So, about this iron mines in Hinterlands," I come closer and powerfully bend over his desk, letting him observe my breasts under a light linen shirt. "We have all the resources to back our needs."

He stands up, and suddenly he's a commanding officer here now, not me. I'm looking up at him, and I'm trying my best not to smile. Oh not so fast, Commander.

I imagine slowly licking his lips and his scar, I imagine this pretty face between my legs. 

Well, yes, I was like a slave in the Circle, and I've learned to obey, but you served the Chantry and must know much of how to worship.

"That's for now," he says, "but we're going fast, so look for new resources, Trevelyan."

I've totally forgotten what we're talking about. 

"Hey, Curly?"

We both turn rapidly to the doorway. I finally smile broadly and go out, having no worries about what Varric will think of this scene. After all, I've done my job, I've told about iron mines, something something something.

I'm so high on him.


	6. On losses

"You need a good rest, Trevelyan."

I stand at the battlements, staring at the mountains, dead inside.

"You can't imagine how badly I don't want to fell asleep. Ever, Commander."

I came here hoping to be alone for a long, long time. I've been babysitting everyone after our battle in Adamant Fortress, trying to make some sense of it and inspire people. Still, no one has asked me how I've been coping with leading people physically into Fade, leaving a Warden hero to his fate in a Nightmare demon's domain, and going back alive. And I am here, feeling betrayed and lonely. I've never felt this depth of loneliness in my life. 

He comes closer, standing with me side by side.

"Yes, Trevelyan, yes, I can. "

"I don't think..."

"I've never been in a Fade in the flesh, that's right." He interrupts me calmly. "But once I've been tortured by demons for long hours, so I know the taste of insanity and desperation it brings. Hundreds of times I've wished not to sleep ever again."

Tortured by demons, for long hours? 

"But you should rest. I'll ask Solas to help you; he seems to know how."

He walks away; I still stand, breathing deeply, wondering what really happened to this man that made him leave Templars and give up on lyrium. For a short moment, I believe he actually left the Order. 

\----

"Demons are real, Maker is not."

He looks at me with a grave sadness, and I almost get chills as his golden autumn eyes turn into a silent grey winter. I expected him to rage, to protest, to fight, but suddenly he mourns. But what does he mourn? 

We are waiting for Cassandra in a quartermaster's office, ready to set up an excavation mission for the Western Approach. 

I'm still so shaken after the Fade that I can't connect with my body. It is like I've lost all physical sensations. I can't eat, I don't drink, I'm not feeling my legs in a perfect pair of leather boots, I don't care about smells and tastes, and I clearly don't feel the urge to touch Commander, because touching is suddenly a strange concept. 

"Alistair was a good man." He says out of nowhere. "I am saddened we've lost him."

Does he mourn Alistair? But why? He's a soldier, he's a general, he has seen losses. He's been to Kirkwall at the mage rebellion, and that was a bloodbath. 

"Yes, his sacrifice is still is a wound for me. I wish I knew him better. Did you..."

He sighs, staring right at me but not seeing anything. 

"Yes." He says after a long moment. "He and his love, Hero of Ferelden, saved me from demons in Ferelden Circle."

"Here you are!" Seeker approaches us quickly, I still look at him, but he's looking into the void. 

\---

"You're in pain," I whisper while we go through narrow corridors to the war room. 

He pretends not to hear me.

I see his pain so clearly, so vividly that it hurts me. I feel how lyrium slowly fades from his body, all the trails vanishing completely, and his body is struggling with shivers. 

"Talk to me for Maker's sake, Commander!" 

He looks at me with surprise.

"You don't believe in Maker, Trevelyan."

"I've told you, I believe in you."

He stops. We're alone here, in this dark, cold corridor, and I can't see his face, can't smell him - because I still hardly connect with physical reality. Yet I sense the familiar feeling of security, although he's hurting inside, and I can't understand how it is possible.

"Why do you care?"

And that is a question. Is it because he's the commander of our troops? Because he's in pain, and I'm a good one wanting to help? Because of his pretty eyes and his strong hands holding me hard against a war table? 

"I don't know."

I step back, feeling small and tiny, ashamed for no reason, not understanding anymore how space around me works. I trip over some bricks and start to fall, but he picks me up and pulls me to his chest. I bury my face in the fur of his coat, trying not to breathe and not to cry.

We're standing in silence for some time, he holds me gently, and I welcome this moment of peace, giving myself into it completely. 

As we hear Vivienne's voice approaching, he releases me, and we head to the war room, not looking at each other.


	7. On power

"I hate it here. I hate every moment of being here, Commander."

I suppose he's the only one who's not going to lecture me of how sweet and pleasant I must appear around these noble freaks. Nightingale loves it, Josephine loves it. Even Solas suddenly enjoys this mess.

I would instead burn my way to Empress Celine with fire. 

"You're a rebellious one, Trevelyan, you can do anything you want here. You're smarter. You're a powerful one because you're not afraid. You're the Empress here."

I look at him, softened for a quick second. I've avoided him mostly since Adamant, as I avoided any emotional connection, but right now, his words sparked something very delightful in my stomach. I've been too confused during our last few conversations, these few sudden touches were to awkard to move me, but here in Halamshiral I surprisingly feel at ease, breathing again and enjoyng myself. I feel fabulous. That's a very rare sensation, that's almost physical, I am suddenly back to my most playful self.

He's still a tall, hard, tough, handsome promise of the sweetest game on Thedas. I like it.

"So now you're flattering me, Commander, aren't you?"

He laughs. 

"Go cry them a river and then tell me how it feels, Trevelyan. You want to burn this place down because you know how all this bullshit is irrelevant to the more significant cause. They feel it, and they are afraid. I'm a military man all my life, and I've seen it over and over. They are terrified of anything real, anything from out of their circle of imaginary power. You hold a real power here, so just go enjoy yourself."

Oh my, Commander, right now, I would rather enjoy you. I widely smile in amusement, suddenly picturing how he undresses me here in front of the Imperial Court. I almost feel my body shifts into the most seductive and curvy form. 

I step a little closer, still smiling, already enjoying myself very much after weeks of distress.

"You've been most helpful, Commander," I whisper. "Inquisition will be honored to pay for your service." 

Maker or not, I want him here and now, but I gather all my consciousness to turn around and leave. 

Oh I promise the Winter Palace will get a show of an Age!


	8. On promise

"You didn't expect we'd come this far, did you, Commander?"

"I didn't allow myself to expect."

We walk through a hallway to a yard, followed by Leliana and Josephine. We're going to prepare our troops for Arbor Wilds. 

Everything feels so out of place, because I, myself, have never expected to get this far, yet here we are, the Inquisition, with full support from Orlais, organizing a grand march into the unknown. And after everything that has happened, I'm still standing. Not dead, not insane, just being lucky. I still don't believe in Maker, no way, but now I do believe in myself - or rather in my unimaginable stubbornness that got me here. 

I've been tough. I've been cruel. I've been coldblooded and rude, driving by necessities of the battle. I have a cause — a great one, a Blight-scaled one, or maybe even more significant. From the moment I've taken the title of Inquisitor, this cause shaped my life. 

All these people around me consider me as a protector and savior, nothing less, nothing more. They're befriending me because they expect me to promise. Or that's how I see it. With every passing day, everything I knew and felt became irrelevant under this promise I had to keep. 

Except for one thing keeping me alive. A templar. 

"What else don't you allow yourself, Commander?"

I almost feel his smile with my skin.

"To promise and not deliver, Trevelyan."

I gasp. 

\---

"Aren't you afraid? You lead so many people into battles."

He grins, staring straight ahead. 

We all partying in Herald's Rest, because people need cheering up, still everyone feels unease and tries to drink this feeling away. We're doing good, but is it good enough? - that's what everybody thinks. Am I good enough? Is Skyhold safe enough? 

Am I good enough? Wasn't everything that led to this moment just luck? These people, we can't promise them anything. 

"I'm doing all I can, Trevelyan."

He sits against me at the long table, the table's empty because everyone jumped out to see Bull's sparring with Blackwall. 

"Yes, you do." I look into my mug, trying to pick up the right words. "But what do you feel when making the decisions? You're in charge of who dies."

He sighs. 

"I begged Hero of Ferelden to stick to the Right of Annulment, you know. She made me look like a fool to myself. She taught me I'm not in charge of who dies, but who lives. So do you." 

"Sometimes, I'm afraid. I am nobody, Commander. Nobody making decisions."

"Still, there's no one better than you, so go on." 

I look up at him, lost, upset, almost broken. He's still a solid rock, big, feeling like a powerful and magnificent creature, looking at me with his firm calmness. He smells like the wildest dream, and I'm licking my lips, wanting to feel his hard body on me. I'm so tired of this game now. I imagined myself being seductive with him, being so on edge, playful and controversial, yet right now, all I need is sincere tenderness and protection. Coming from a templar. 

I'm so messed up.

"You're so beautiful, Trevelyan."

I open my mouth to say something, but I have no idea what to say. I'm just starring at him, not able to see anything else but his perfect pretty face. 

"Don't," he tells me. "You need to rest. I will take care of you if you allow. You know it."

He stands up, reaching out for me with his hand. I take it, rising from the bench. And from the second I feel my hand in his, I know, oh Maker I know, he's gonna deliver so much more than he promised.

\---

"I... I'm..."

From this moment, I know nothing of words. I know only breathing. So deep, so soft, so loud. All my inhales exist for breathing in the smell of his naked skin. 

I lay in his arms, defenseless, eager for his hands never stop to caress me. He's looking at me, while I lay down high on desire, with clouded eyes and open mouth, silently begging him to take me. 

He's smiling above me, naked. So handsome. So gentle. So hard. 

"You're so beautiful," he says, pressing his fingers to my open lips. 

I want him to take me right now.

"I..."

He kisses me, and I put my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, groaning as my nipples touch his chest. I've been waiting for so long, and now his every touch makes my body respond with mild shivering. Oh he's so big and hard. I want him inside me immediately, right between my lips, so deep.

But I so much enjoy his tongue. 

I lick his mouth, gasping for air. He slowly enters me with his fingers, and I press teeth to his neck, almost crying. 

"Com...mander..."

I hug him tight, curving beneath his body, on his fingers inside me, and nearly collapse with pleasure. He squeezes my nipple, so firmly, so... oh, where did you learn all of this, you sexiest man ever? 

"I..."

"You're stunning." 

He pulls his fingers out and tastes them, enjoying himself. 

"I..."

He enters me rapidly, and I lose my breath, my sense, and my memory. He's so big. So hard. So firm. And I am so wet and sensual for this man, I am so ready that I take him entirely and in a few moves I... oh Maker, oh Maker, oh oh, Maker's breath, please, Cullen, please, oh Maker, oh dear, so deep, harder, please, harder, oh Maker, ohh, oh dear, oh dear, I.. I.. Maker, Cullen, I...

Oh, oh. Ohhh.

I lay beneath him happy and almost dead when he comes inside me with a soft groan, grabbing my body into a tight embrace. 

"So, you pray to Maker, Trevelyan."


	9. On freedom

"You're sad," he says, approaching me slowly. I barely hear him.

I stay on the battlements, and the dawn is coming somewhen near. I wrapped myself up in a bedcover, yet still shivering from the morning cold. 

"I am, Commander."

Commander. Calling him this way still feels right. 

He stands beside me, and for some moments, we stay in silence. 

"I want to stop the sun from rising," I say. "I'm afraid of every tomorrow now."

"Don't be, Trevelyan."

"You're going to preach some Chantry stuff to me?"

He places his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. He's bare-chested, and I can't help but stare, not hiding my admiration for his body anymore. He's gently caressing my shoulders. I'm shivering. I want to rush into his arms and cry, but something is stopping me.

"I am a wreck of a templar, I'm not doing it anymore," he says calmly, his fingers tenderly touching my neck. 

My body still remembers his warmth, I look in his eyes, suddenly out of my misery, biting my lip. The bedcover slips down my shoulders, and I stand naked, I, the Inquisitor, on the battlements of Skyhold, in all the glory of the dawn.

His fingers touch my nipples, gently, then slightly squeezing. I close my eyes, smiling. I'm so ready to have him again. 

"I'd like you to do it for me," I whisper. "This preaching of yours."

He sharply pulls me close, and I kiss him hard in one harsh move. 

"You'd like?" he whispers into my open lips. "I will preach to you then."

He hugs me tight, and in a few moments, I find myself lying on my back on the stone floor, with all his face buried between my spread legs, he's licking me so softly that I completely lose my breath. 

Oh, the dawn will come. 

\---

"That's been weird."

We're all marching to Skyhold from the Mythal's Temple, and I just can't unroll everything I've learned. 

He's walking by my side, lightly wounded in the left hand, but still tough, powerful, surprisingly silent. There have been not many times I saw him on a battlefield, and he's simply gorgeous in his raw warrior energy even after everything's done. Even now, when I'm extremely confused and exhausted, I want to undress him and ride him till we're out of breath.

"Indeed," he says finally, "But you were right not to drink from this well, Trevelyan. There's something very tricky in all this."

"Because there's no knowledge worth of being bound to someone's will."

"You love your freedom, I remember."

I smile.

"That's the most beautiful thing in the world — to be free. You're trying to learn this yourself, Commander. You're trying to be free from lyrium."

He smiles back, and something desperate sparks in this smile. 

"That's a long way, Trevelyan. And the way is nightmarish. Sometimes I think it's better to give up."

"You don't want to be a slave to this thing. You deserve not to. We both deserve to be free at last."

Suddenly I'm drowning in a melancholy again. That's strange how this man makes me race rapidly between vivid, thrilling lust and deep, immense sadness. Every now and then, he reminds me of who I really am: not an Inquisitor, not a Trevelyan, not a human, not a woman, but a mage. That's the only identity that ever mattered. If you're a mage, all other things are meaningless. You're a treat; therefore, you should be a slave or a weapon, but never on your own. I am not a slave, finally, but as an Inquisitor, I'm just a weapon. A good one or weak, that we shall see. And in the end, if we'll be lucky and the world will become safe again, what are the odds they are going to enslave me one more time? And all these people, marching right behind me, will they just leave me be, unattended, wandering all over Thedas with my magic and my knowledge? Because that is what I want to do. And this man, who's served as a templar most of his life, will he let me go freely?

That's it. It comes like a clap of thunder, it pops loudly in my head and strikes me right in the heart. I don't want to leave him behind, I love him.


	10. On victory

"I wonder, why the Chantry knows nothing of this eluvian thing, of this Fade-like dimension? Of everything elven? How do you even trust them?"

We stand in a War room, waiting for others. He's confused as much as I am. 

"You know I do not represent Chantry in any way, do you, Trevelyan?" 

"Why did you leave?"

He grins.

"Because I was a slaver."

I look at him mindfully. He looks back. He's very sharp in what he's just said. He meant it. 

"You had a hard life, Commander."

"I'm still alive."

I smile. Oh you are.

\-------

"That's it, Commander."

"That's it, Trevelyan."

He looks at me with bitterness. Everything around us is going messy very quickly. Corypheus came to Skyhold, and that's me who is going to fight him, somehow. I am capable of lots of things, but this? I'm not a hero. 

"If I fail, what will all of you, the Inquisition, do? Maybe you have a plan?"

I thought he'd be avoiding looking at me, but no, he's here, placing his hands on my shoulders. 

"Yes, we have. Our priority is to save as many lives as possible. We've started the evacuation."

"I see."

That's right, in case I die they need to move on. We've built a powerful and resourceful community, we have mighty allies and people like Solas and Morrigan by our side. I'm just a random mage, accidentally given some powers. They will be okay without me.

He grabs me in a tight embrace. "Don't think of this, Trevelyan, don't even dare," he whispers. "You're a badass dragon killer, you've been once physically in Fade, you've defeated an Avvaar god in a shape of a dragon, you... I..." He pauses, and I feel his breath. "I know you will do it."

"But what if..."

He holds me tighter.

"I will pray my heart to pieces, I swear. Maker will hear me. Just once in my life, he will."

I sigh. I want to tell him I love him before I die, but I will not. 

\----

"You're so good in praying, Commander," I whisper in his ear, standing at Skyhold's stairs, he's holding me, everyone cheers from everywhere, but I can't see anything, I'm tired beyond reality.

I am in pain. I have so many burns and wounds that I'm going mad. 

"You need help."

He takes me in his arms, and I hear he's asking, "Solas! Where's he when we need him?" and Leliana says, "He's gone, we can't find him."

He carries me inside the keep, shouting commands, demanding for mages to show in my quarters immediately. He's so warm. I close my eyes, smelling his skin, remembering this man making love to me. So confident, so overwhelming, so tender. 

"I'm dying, right?" I ask him silently, with all the powers left.

"No, you're not, darling," I hear Vivienne's soft voice, and that's when I fall into deep, long darkness.

\----

"Everything is strange, and all this is over, isn't it, Commander?"

We stand on my balcony, I'm all in bandages, looking and feeling awful. He's tall and handsome, just like the first time I've seen him. I can't really remember how this Inquisition has started. It was ages ago. I was able to feel something, I knew how the world around me looked like. I told him I finally felt alive, but now I'm so dead.

"I love you, Trevelyan. You know it."

I didn't. 

We both look at the mountains. I'm starting to smile. 

"That last time we spoke before the battle, why didn't you tell me?" 

"I didn't want to make it harder for you."

I'm still smiling. 

"I so love you, Commander."


End file.
